


We'll Be Outlaws

by AliceSloane13



Category: Wanted (2016), Wanted (Australia TV 2016), Wanted (Australia), Wanted (Netflix)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Slow Burn, Spoilers through Season 3, The show started it, also lots of running, and danger, and hiding, and more running, blatantly obnoxious fanfiction tropes, gal pals, gay af, i'm really bad at tagging things, lots of familiar and new faces will be showing up, riding off into the sunset, these two idiots are in love and have no clue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSloane13/pseuds/AliceSloane13
Summary: Picks up directly after season 3. Lola and Chelsea are still on the run, albeit at a slightly less intense pace. They've got a head start on the trouble behind them, but these two can't ever seem to catch a break. (I suck at summaries and will try to talk someone better than me into writing one)Hope you enjoy!





	1. Lola & Chelsea - We'll be Outlaws, Partners in Crime (Alessia Cara)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in November for NaNoWriMo, so it's rather a large project. It's not completely outlined so I'm not promising updates at a regular pace. I want to make sure that nothing is going to change before I post. That being said, I have the first 5ish chapters pretty set in stone. Once I get the middle of the story figured out I'll be on track with a full plot and can update with more confidence that I won't have to backtrack and change anything. So, just bear with me. 
> 
> This starts a bit slow, but I promise it doesn't stay that way. I really don't feel like I have their voices down, but I hope it's enjoyable regardless.
> 
> The title comes from the Alessia Cara song Outlaws. It's ONE of my favorite songs for them. I don't know if it will stick, but it was the best I could come up with for now.

The sun was shining down in harsh waves through the small window, and Lola shoved her face further into the pillow, groaning in annoyance. It was too hot. The bed was too small. Chelsea was too long and gangly. Her feet were too damn big, but at least she’d changed her socks–small miracles.

She pushed Chelsea’s feet away from her face and reached for the younger woman’s arm. Turning her wrist over, she leaned up to read Chelsea’s watch. 06:20. Flopping back against her pillow with a huff, she wiped a hand across her face.

She’d barely slept. Not that that was unusual anymore. Sleepless nights, whether by choice or circumstance, had become pretty routine. She had thought that maybe being on the road, in a relatively safe space, would allow her to get in a few extra hours. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

With clumsy movements and a lot of bumped elbows and knees, she managed to extract herself from their makeshift bed. She still wasn’t sure they’d put the cushions together the right way.

Part of the problem was that instead of just sleeping on the two single benches, they’d tried to unfold them into the full bed. Of course, neither of them had ever done that before, and it wasn’t like they had instructions. It just seemed like they’d have more space if they stretched it out to its full size.

If there was any extra space, Lola wasn’t sure where it’d gone. They’d spent half the night trying to figure out the best way to sleep without toppling the whole damn mess over. It didn’t help that Chelsea refused to use the bedding that was already in the RV, so they’d spent half the night freezing, and now it was stifling hot.

“So, it needs a little work,” Lola mumbled to herself. “It’s still better than some of the other places we’ve slept.” She turned back to see Chelsea readjusting to the extra space.

Instead of stretching out, she drew in on herself. Her brow furrowed as though disappointed and her arm flopped off the side of the bed. Once settled, she started to snore quietly once more.

“Oh sure, now you want to make some room,” Lola said, knowing that Chelsea was dead to the world. At least one of them was getting sleep.

Grabbing her jeans off the floor, Lola shimmied into her pants. She grabbed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed near Chelsea’s denim-clad hips. If she wasn’t using the sheets, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be sleeping on those cushions without some level of protection.

As Lola laced up her boots, she felt the warmth of the younger woman curl around her as Chelsea moved closer. Smiling easily, she looked down at her friend.

Nothing about their friendship made any sense. Who would have thought that two strangers sharing a bus stop would have ended up in such a mess? That they would come out on the other side of it, road tripping across the country like a couple of kids on a gap year?

They weren’t complete opposites, but somehow all their messy baggage seemed to complement each other’s. They brought out the best–and at times the worst–in each other. She knew that despite all they’d been through they both were better people for it.

Chelsea had become stronger and taken control of her life. Lola had watched her grow into her strengths and desires–and while she may have influenced the younger woman, there was no doubt in her mind that Chelsea was her own person.

As for herself, she was slowly learning that it was okay to let someone in–to allow them to care about her. For now, that list consisted of precisely one name, but she was working on it. Of course, there was also David and Donna, but it wasn’t the same. She still felt the need to keep up a stronger persona around them–a front that might protect them from the consequences of her choices.

As much as she wished it were true, things weren’t as simple as she and Chelsea were pretending, they were. Leaning forward, she rested her arms on her knees and sighed. They were still wanted, and she knew the police weren’t giving up any time soon. They’d embarrassed the authorities repeatedly. Wounded pride was a dangerous fuel, and until they were caught, it would just keep building.

They needed to keep moving. It was the only thing Lola knew to do. Everything else she could deal with later. They just needed to get away and disappear. With a little time to breath, they could make a new plan, but for now, they needed distance.

Climbing over the heaps of belongings left by the previous owners, and their own meager belongings, Lola made her way to the small kitchenette. The old coffee pot had a post-it on it in Chelsea’s neat handwriting. Where she had even found post-its, Lola had no idea.

Along with her message she’d taken to drawing along the edges: a smiling sun, flowers, and hearts. Smirking at Chelsea’s sleeping form, Lola shook her head and read the note.

_Good Morning!! I know you’ll use it anyway, but the coffee pot is cracked. Don’t make more than three cups. PLEASE! Let’s not end up in the hospital because you’ve decided to drink glass._

There was an arrow to flip over from where Chelsea had run out of room.

_Forget that. Since you’re going to do what you want to anyway, it’s all set and ready to go. Just turn it on ~C_

Lola flipped the switch to turn it on with a snort of amusement. She stretched her arms out above her head, still feeling stiff and worn out. Heading to the front of the vehicle, she found her glasses and started the engine. It was time for them to get back on the road. She flipped the radio on, hoping to catch any news about them and what the police were planning next. They wouldn’t reveal any useful details to the general public, but it still brought her some sense of control.

After about ten minutes of driving, Lola realized that while the coffee was made, she was still going to have to pull over to get some. Silently debating between stopping and suffering, Chelsea slumped down in the seat next to her. The younger woman stretched out her arm, passing over a travel mug and smiling sleepily at her.

“Ta,” Lola said, bringing the cup to her lips, and taking a large sip. She quickly moved the back of her hand up to cover her mouth in an attempt to resist spitting it out.

The RV swerved and shook slightly at the change in terrain as Lola let go of the steering wheel. Jumping from her seat, Chelsea grabbed the steering wheel and steadied them. “Lola!”

After finally swallowing the mouthful, Lola ran her tongue across her teeth, trying to erase the taste. “Bloody hell. Did you make this out of dirt?” she asked, wiping off her mouth. She brushed Chelsea’s hands off the steering wheel and handed her the mug. “Here, take this.”

Sitting back down, Chelsea frowned. She looked down at the coffee and took a tentative sniff at it. “Oh god, that is awful.” She got up and dumped the liquid down the sink, along with the rest of the pot. “We didn’t have any coffee,” she said returning to her seat. “I had to use what they’d left behind. It looked okay, but honestly, we need to stop somewhere and get supplies anyway.”

“Great. I don’t have to worry about the cracked pot. You’ll poison me before that’s an issue,” Lola snarked. She needed caffeine. The day was already starting out on a rough note. She pulled off the highway and followed the signs towards one of the smaller towns.

Turning in her seat and drawing her knees up, Chelsea watched her. “How long have you been up?” she asked through a yawn. It always took her a little longer to wake up in the mornings. She had always been an early riser, but it was more out of habit than her own circadian rhythm.

“Not long,” Lola said. “I wanted to keep moving, though. We’re not as far as I’d like to be.”

Chelsea nodded along, only half listening. They would never be far enough for Lola to relax. She would need to figure out how to deal with that eventually. The woman deserved a break after all the years she’d spent looking over her shoulder, even if it was only a temporary respite. “We still need to stop somewhere.” She ignored the look Lola shot her. “We need food. We need toiletries. We need blankets!”

Lola sighed but nodded. “Yeah, alright.” Chelsea hadn’t even realized she’d already been looking for a shopping strip that might satisfy the younger woman. She was right; they did need to pick up a few things.

It was just so easy to stay inside the RV where they could be themselves. Even being “Lola” and hiding her past had been less exhausting than everything they’d been through in the past few weeks. In here, it was just her and Chelsea. It was easy. She’d been dreading this shopping trip before Chelsea had even brought it up.

Pulling into a rundown parking lot, Lola ignored Chelsea’s fidgeting. She could tell that she was trying to hold back saying anything. “We’ll stop later for other things. Just the essentials for now.” She waited, but there was no response. Looking over at Chelsea expectantly, she was surprised when the younger woman merely nodded in understanding.

“I can still get things to clean with, right?” she asked, one side of her mouth curling up in hopeful excitement.

Rolling her eyes, Lola nodded. “Yes, you can clean to your heart’s content. I just think we should keep in mind that we might not get to keep this thing for long. If we have to move quickly, or if we get spotted…”

Grabbing Lola’s arm, Chelsea nodded. “I get it, Lola. I just don’t think it would kill us to make it a little more comfortable.”

“Righto,” Lola said, turning off the engine. “Let’s just make this quick.”

Chelsea hopped up, excited at the prospect of shopping–even if it was only for groceries. She just took a few minutes to get cleaned up and changed and checked herself over in the small bathroom mirror. Chelsea was surprised when Lola pushed her blue hat onto her head.

“Wear that,” Lola said, pulling her own hair up and trying to see herself in the mirror. “And move over, will ya,” She mumbled, two bobby pins resting between her lips.

Chelsea snatched the hat off and shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said, shoving the offending item back at Lola.

Rolling her eyes, Lola tried to push the hat back at her. “Just for the afternoon. You look too much,” Lola paused, gesturing vaguely at Chelsea, “like you.”

“Then give me your shirt,” Chelsea said, crossing her arms. She continued to refuse the hat.

Lola just stared at her for a moment and set the hat on the counter. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, as she started to unbutton her shirt. At least the shirt she had on under her flannel wasn’t horrible. She’d never fit her chest into any of Chelsea’s clothes.

“Every time you give me that hat you leave me!” Chelsea explained, voice tightening into a pitch that hurt Lola’s ears.

Lola spun on her heels to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

“When you left me with my father…”

Letting out a sigh, Lola nodded. “That was one time. I just… I wanted you to have something… I thought…”

“That it would make it easier?” Chelsea asked accusingly. “It didn’t. You also sent it with me when we left prison.”

Pulling her shirt off, she thrust it at Chelsea. “What? No… You had it. When… Morrison…” Turning away from the younger woman, she fussed with her hair in the mirror, hoping to avoid the rest of the conversation or at least Chelsea’s accusing glares.

“Lola, I’m not an idiot. When they took us into custody, I’d already given it back to you,” Chelsea explained, tone slowing down as the emotions took their toll. “There was no way they would have logged it in with my stuff. I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you.” She quickly slipped the shirt on over her tank top and buttoned it up halfway.

“Fine,” Lola said. “Alright. When Maxine said we’d be placed separately, I asked her to make sure it got boxed up with your things. Okay?” She turned to face Chelsea and offered the hat back to her. “I’m not going to leave you, Chelsea. Please just wear the damned thing.”

“Damned is right,” Chelsea said, peering at herself in the mirror over Lola’s shoulder. “I swear we’ve killed more people in this hat then…” She saw Lola’s face shadow and stopped talking. “It looks better on you,” Chelsea admitted, trying to adjust it in a way that looked natural on her. “Here, wear these,” she said, pushing her oversized sunglasses onto Lola’s face.

Lola refused to even look at herself in the mirror with them on. “Ugh, let’s just get this over with.” She headed towards the door, but Chelsea called after her.

“What if I clean up here, and you get the groceries?” When Lola just stared at her Chelsea slumped in defeat. “Do I have to go? You don’t let me cook anyway,” she said, attempting to weasel her way out of grocery shopping.

“You’re the one that wanted to stop in the first place,” Lola said, exasperated. “If you plan on eating then yes, you have to come. I go by myself, and you won’t eat a blasted thing I pick out.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t have gluten,” Chelsea said defensively. The idea of shopping had been exciting at first, but the novelty of it was wearing off. She wanted to clean and make things homier. She didn’t particularly want to wander up and down grocery aisles and argue over the necessity of everything either of them touched.

Lola raised her hands up, stopping the rest of whatever Chelsea was going to say. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just said you were a pain in the arse to shop for.”

“Fine,” Chelsea grumbled. “Let’s throw all this old stuff out first.” When Lola nodded, Chelsea busied herself gathering up all the old food.

She hated grocery shopping. She always had. Too many things she couldn’t have. Too many things her father bought that she didn’t want. Well, things her father requested. She doubted he’d stepped foot in a market in years.

As Chelsea angrily bagged up all the old food, apparently working through some internal strife, Lola took a moment to put together a list of what she wanted to get based on the limited space they had to store food. It didn’t take long. Most likely they’d have to make frequent stops if they wanted anything that didn’t have a shelf life of 10+ years.

She’d planned out what she could as far as the healthy stuff went, and then tried to fill out the rest of the order with anything that would keep and hopefully not kill them. “Look this over,” she said, handing the list to Chelsea. “Add what you need to. Just remember this is only a stop gap until we get a little further.”

"I just want to get rid of all this junk that isn't ours and..."

"Obsessively clean until you're sure there's not a germ in here?" Lola shot her a smile. "It's fine."

Nodding, Chelsea added a few things to the list but figured she’d just grab things as they went along. After seeing, and smelling, some of the leftovers in the small fridge that she’d just emptied, food was the last thing she wanted to think about. She handed Lola back the notepad once she was finished.

“Okay, right. So, I’ll start on the groceries; you hit cleaning and HBA. Yeah?” She flipped to the second page and started to copy over the things she wanted Chelsea to grab.

“HBA?” Chelsea asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

Lola realized her retail brain had taken over. Even if Chelsea hadn’t lived in a bubble, she probably wouldn’t have known. “Health and Beauty Aids. Shampoo and crap,” she explained. “Just get whatever you like.”

“What about you?” Chelsea asked, taking the list, and folding it in half.

“Just assume I’ll use half of whatever you buy,” she said. “Oh, except…” She grabbed the page back from Chelsea and pulled the pen cap off with her teeth. “Alright, there ya go,” she mumbled as she added to the list and handed it back to her.

Chelsea glanced down to see the name of some fancy shampoo and conditioner that she would never have expected Lola to buy for herself. “That it?”

Smirking, Lola said, “If you think for a minute that I’m letting you pick out my makeup you’re dead wrong.” She grabbed Chelsea by the chin and tilted her face from side to side. “Might get you some though,” she teased.

Or, at least Chelsea hoped she was teasing. She jerked her head out of Lola’s grasp and batted her hand away. “Can we just go and get this over with?” Chelsea asked, already headed towards the door.

Lola frowned and watched her walk away for a moment before following. “We’ll be done before you know it,” Lola said, sidling up to the younger woman. She hip checked Chelsea and bumped her shoulder against the younger woman until finally, she elicited a smile.

Once inside, Lola sent Chelsea off towards the cleaning supplies. “Go wild,” she’d instructed dryly, knowing that if nothing else it would give Chelsea a way to burn off whatever it was that was bugging her. Also, the RV would be spotless from top to bottom by the time she was done. Something wasn’t right with the younger woman, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up.

Lola hit the produce first. Despite the foods inability to last long, they’d been eating like shit for weeks. She wanted to try and cram as many nutrients into their systems as she could while they had the chance.

Helping Cliff with dinner had reminded her how much she enjoyed cooking. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone else to feed–not since David had moved out. She hadn’t cared much to bother with cooking for herself, but with Chelsea around it didn’t feel like such a waste.

As she wandered through the department, she had to stop herself from buying things she would have used in her old life. They just didn’t have the room or the means to cook a lot of it. Working her way through the list, and grabbing a few extra things along the way, Lola lost herself in the mundane task.

Meanwhile, Chelsea wasn’t nearly as enthused as she’d thought she would be working through her half of the list. Just knowing that she could get the RV into better shape was a relief, but she couldn’t seem to fully focus on the task.

Thoughts of her father and his upcoming wedding had been circling her head. She didn’t care that he was getting remarried–part of her was surprised he hadn’t done it years ago. The timing of it bothered her though.

Maybe it was selfish to think that he should put his life on hold when she was going through so much, but she couldn’t help being upset by it. Her life had exploded into more trouble and chaos than anyone could have predicted, but he was carrying on like usual. She’d a feeling that leaving him at that gas station, had done too much damage to their relationship to salvage it.

The choice had been an easy one to make, though. Even before she knew where it would lead. Going after Lola… there was no doubt in her mind that it was the right thing to do. No matter the cost. She had never felt so much loyalty towards a person before. Loyalty she knew her father should have felt towards her.

Checking both ends of the aisle she was on, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Looking down at the voicemail icon in the corner, she sighed. She hadn’t listened to it yet. Part of her didn’t want to tell Lola she’d even called him. It felt like some sort of betrayal to her, even though she knew Lola wouldn’t see it that way.

She’d only tried to call him once since Maxine had let them go. Chelsea didn’t even know why she still cared. If anything, the idea of picking a fight with him seemed more appealing than a conversation. She didn’t want to pick up the pieces, she just wanted him to see her. See who she was without him suffocating her.

Shoving the phone back into her pocket, she looked down at the list to check what was next and headed down the aisle. The message wasn’t from her father. She knew that much. It was his assistant calling–probably to politely tell her to fuck off. It was part of the reason she hadn’t listened to it yet. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat.

She skimmed the bottles of hair products, finally landing on the ones Lola had listed. Next to them was a set for color treated hair. She tilted her head, wondering once more if she should dye her hair. Fueled by adrenaline and rebellion, she headed towards the hair dye.

Lost in her own thoughts, Chelsea passed the dyes, back-stepped, and turned down the aisle. She straightened her shoulders and headed towards the redder tints. She remembered Lola’s reaction to her first choice and opted for something subtler. Picking up a box, she turned it to the side to look at the shading variations.

“Whatcha looking at?” Lola asked, smacking Chelsea playfully on the ass as she approached. She laughed heartily, as Chelsea squealed and jumped in surprise.

Turning around and glaring at her, Chelsea rubbed her ass. “That hurt!”

Lola gave her a disbelieving look and otherwise ignored the comment. “Still thinking about dying your hair?” she asked, looking at the box in Chelsea’s hands.

“I thought about it,” Chelsea admitted. She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t think it’s really me though.”

Praying that Chelsea would put the box back, Lola tried to stay supportive. “If you want to dye it, I’ll do it, but it’s going to take a lot to maintain your roots,” she said, skimming gentle fingers through locks of Chelsea's dark hair.

“What do you think?” the younger woman asked, holding the box up. It was a darker shade of auburn. She liked it, but she wasn’t completely sold on the idea of dying her hair. Her father had never let her, not that she’d asked more than the one time, and that wig they’d made her wear in witness protection had been awful.

It wasn’t a horrid shade. Lola had to admit it was better than “Flame Tree,” but she still had a feeling that this was more about her health than a disguise. Changing her hair color wasn’t going to change the diagnosis. It was only going to bring about a small feeling of relief that she would just come crashing down from. “I’m a bit partial to how it is now,” Lola teased. “You’re pretty cute the way you are.”

Taking the box from Chelsea’s hands, Lola put it back on the shelf and replaced it with the list. “Go hit paper goods. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” She smiled warmly as she saw the younger woman blush. “Go on,” she said when Chelsea didn’t move right away.

Once Chelsea was out of sight, Lola slid over to the makeup. She knew what she liked for herself, but Chelsea was a blank slate. Literally. She’d spotted the makeup the younger woman had added to the cart she was using–all nudes and naturals and not a bit of color. She couldn’t help herself and grabbed a few things she thought might look good on Chelsea.

Lola wasn’t particularly conscious of how she looked when they were on the run–like shit most days–but she did prefer to look more like her old self. She enjoyed dressing up, and after a small stint in a beauty salon, she’d always enjoyed playing around with different styles and looks.

Besides, a makeover might be just the distraction the younger woman needed. Much easier to wash her face than have to dye her hair back to its original color. Making her way through the rest of the department she gathered a small mountain of products.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she knew she needed to get back to Chelsea before she went overboard. She spotted a rack of makeup bags and dumped the contents into one. She fully intended to pay for them but didn’t want Chelsea seeing how much she’d picked up. She’d never hear the end of it.

Lola found Chelsea comparing sizes and prices of Ziplock bags. She rolled her eyes and grabbed three different sizes, tossing them in the cart. “Alright, let’s get out of here. You got everything?”

Chelsea’s eyes skimmed over the baskets, double checking. “I think so,” she said, nodding. “Yeah. That’s everything.” She followed Lola up to the front of the store.

As they stood in the checkout line, Chelsea’s eyes widened as she saw themselves on the cover of two tabloids. She nudged Lola subtly and nodded towards them.

Smirking at how horrible the resemblance was printed on the cheap newspaper, Lola picked one up. Even she barely recognized them. Grabbing the other one, and a handful of various magazines, she tossed them on the conveyor belt with the rest of their things.

Sensing Chelsea’s panic, she grabbed her hand, squeezed reassuringly, and whispered, “It’s fine, bet she doesn’t even notice.” She’d spent enough time working registers to know that after about twenty minutes on shift you hardly looked at what you were ringing up. Everything just became a blur.

“Dean,” the cashier said excitedly a few moments later. “These are the women I was telling you about.” She held up the tabloid for the young man to see. She looked back at Lola and explained how exciting she thought it all was.

Chelsea could feel herself nodding along with the story and hoped she didn’t look as panicked as she felt. Trying to look everywhere except at the cashier she accidentally made eye contact with the bagger, but he just nodded at her reassuringly. She had a distinct impression that he knew exactly who they were.

“You know,” the woman said, continuing to ring them up as she talked–a skill many checkout chicks lacked, “You girls kind of look like them.”

Lola laughed and dug through her wallet counting out cash. “We’ve been told that a few times actually.”

“It’s just all so romantic,” the cashier said, surprising them and Dean. She tutted at their disbelieving looks. “Oh, I don’t believe for a minute those two are dangerous. I’ve been around long enough to have instincts about these sorts of things. I’m just glad they haven’t gotten hurt.”

Dean laughed. “Well, they haven’t gotten caught yet either. Surprising too, with how familiar their faces have become to everyone,” he teased, winking at Lola, and laughing at Chelsea’s panicked look.

Lola just nodded at him, smirking. She turned back to the cashier when she announced their total and pulled out enough money to pay.

The cashier quickly counted it out and handed back the change. “Just imagine–on the run with your best friend. Surviving whatever happens next–dodging danger and conspiracy at every turn. And of course, outsmarting every villain along the way. It all sounds like a pretty grand adventure to me.”

With a genuine smile, Lola nodded in agreement. “I guess that does sound pretty amazing when you put it that way.” She glanced at Chelsea and flashed her a reassuring smile. “Well, I hope you two have a good afternoon,” she said, as they headed towards the exit.

The whole way back to the RV Chelsea prattled on about how panicked she’d been. Why had Lola bought those? Did Lola think that boy knew who they were because she thought he might? Did Lola think he would call the authorities?

She continued on, with the million other thoughts and questions that ran through her mind. None of which included her father or the lingering bad mood she’d had all afternoon.

Ignoring her questions, Lola led the way back to the RV. Despite her normally cautious nature, she was pretty confident neither of the workers would be calling the cops. Maybe the small thrill of danger was exactly what they’d needed. Chelsea seemed back to her normal self, and Lola felt more relaxed than she had in a long while.

 


	2. Karen - Confident (Demi Lovato)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the comments here and on Tumblr. Feedback is much more appreciated than you know--especially in such a small fandom. I'm sorry to say that our girls are not in this chapter, but there are plot things happening, and as much as I would like to write only them 100% of the time, this is a full-fledged story with lots of things happening. They'll show up soon. I promise!

“Alaine, I’m going to have to get back to you,” Karen said, wrapping things up with her assistant. “No, no. Everything’s fine, but if I don’t get these kids moving, we’re never going to get there.” She paused for a moment as Alaine responded. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you in a little while then.”

Once off the phone, Karen took a good long look at herself in the mirror. Widow and orphan all in the same year. Well, maybe not a complete orphan, her mother was still out there–somewhere.

“Zac, Zoe,” Karen called up the stairs. “Downstairs, now.” It was the third time she’d called them. She tried to remind herself that they’d recently lost their father, but more often than not it was an afterthought. There had just been so much else on her mind.

One would think planning a second funeral in such a short matter of time would make it an easier process, but it had been completely different altogether. For starters, Ray’s funeral had been more public, and she’d had help from the city. It was amazing how many sins they were willing to overlook once he was dead. Her father’s funeral would be a much more muted and colder affair.

The kids trudged down the stairs. Once in front of her, Karen looked them over. “The least your father could have done was taught you how to tie a tie properly,” Karen said with a sigh. Undoing the piece of fabric, she knotted it with easy perfection. “There. That’s better,” she said, squeezing Zac’s shoulders. “You look like a proper young man now.”

Tugging at his collar, Zac shook his head. “It’s too tight,” he complained.

“At least you don’t have to wear tights,” his sister hissed.

Karen ignored their complaints. In fairness, she despised funerals herself. Even her own father’s. She could understand their annoyance. Funerals were a pointless ceremony that she’d never understood. No one ever found closure in graveyards–not the living, and certainly not the dead.

“Is this going to be as long as dad’s?” Zoe asked, voice wobbling slightly at the mention of her father. Ray hadn’t been around as much as most parents, but they had still loved him, and his death was fresh.

He hadn’t been much of a husband, but he was a very good father when he was around. Shaking her head, Karen checked herself over once more in the mirror before grabbing her purse. “No. Your father’s was long because he was an inspector for the police. The community wanted to honor him for his service.”

“But he’d just been in prison,” Zoe pointed out. “Why would they want to honor him if they thought he’d done bad things?”

Karen didn’t have an answer for that. She hadn’t even known the children knew where he’d been. Granted it had been on the news, but she’d tried to shield them from that. “Yes well, people make mistakes sometimes.” She wasn’t sure if she was referring to Ray’s mistakes or the police suddenly deciding that he had been wrongly persecuted. In the end, it hardly mattered either way.

“This will just be business associates and friends.” Gently herding the children out the of the house, they headed towards the limo waiting outside. She locked the door behind them, and took a stabling breath before following.

“Grandad had friends?” Zac asked in surprise.

No, Karen thought to herself. He had colleagues and criminals–that was it. Even she was more of a right-hand than a daughter. She always had been. “We’re running late,” she said, ignoring the question. She nodded to the driver as she slid into the back seat.

“We’re almost an hour early,” Zoe said with a heavy sigh.

Karen resisted rolling her eyes. A habit she still struggled to break, but things had been tense over the past few weeks. She’d found herself slipping back into a number of bad habits that she’d left behind long ago.

She knew she was on edge and being gruffer with the children than she should be. If she could just get through this day, things would get better. For now, routine and rules would have to carry them through. “And what do we say about punctuality?”

“Early is on time. On time is late,” the children repeated with an equal lack of enthusiasm. They had never gone without anything in their lives, discipline was no different. Karen raised her children like she’d been raised. While Ray might have indulged them, and she wasn’t around as much as she’d like to be, she still tried to instill in them the same values and touchstones she herself followed.

Silence swallowed up the three as the car pulled out of the driveway–Karen lost in her thoughts, and the kids looking out the windows miserably. She hadn’t allowed them to bring any electronics, and since they’d refused the option of bringing books along to read, they were trapped in deafening boredom.

Questions without answers spun through her head. Karen couldn’t stop thinking of what she was going to do next. Obviously, she couldn’t let the family business scatter. It was up to her to lead things from here on out. Ever since Ray had died, and then when her father missing, things had been rocky at best. She’d been shielded from a true revolt by a cloud of lies explaining her father’s absence. Now that his body had been found if she didn’t keep a tight grasp on everyone, she was going to lose it all.

* * *

The funeral was over quickly, even the children didn’t have time to really show their boredom at the affair. They weren’t a religious family, so there had been no service. The few people who spoke kept their speeches short–no one truly wanting to implicate themselves with the scandals the family had dealt with in the past 6 months.

The only hang-up had been in the middle of her own eulogy. Halfway through she’d spotted her mother in the sea of black. Of all the times of her to make an appearance in their lives, it shouldn’t have come as a shock that it would be her father’s death. She was probably celebrating. For Karen, however, it was like seeing a ghost.

Stumbling over a few words, she quickly recovered. She focused her gaze anywhere other than the knowing look she’d received from that brief contact. From that point forward, everything fell into an autonomous haze. When she did finally snap out of it, she was standing in the reception hall, watching her mother approach.

Stiffening on instinct, she kept an otherwise cool exterior. “Mother,” Karen said flatly. It had been 6 years since they’d seen each other. Another 10 before that.

“Karen.” Eloise Foster greeted her daughter with equal indifference. “They’ve gotten big,” she said, nodding towards the children currently overfilling their plates with the food set out by the caterers.

“That tends to happen with children,” Karen said, trying to hide any accusatory tone in her voice. She crossed her arms, before dropping them back to her sides and straightening. She would not allow her mother to turn her into a petulant insecure child. “No one stopped you from seeing them,” she snapped.

Eloise smirked at the way her daughter was flitting between the strong, confident woman she’d raised her to be and the hot-headed emotional girl her father had indulged. “I told you that if you continued to allow your family to be manipulated by your father, I would be no part of it.”

“Speaking of Dad, I didn’t expect to see you of all people here.” Her parents had been divorced since she was in her mid-20s. Her mother had always ignored Karen’s involvement in her father’s business, but her marriage to Ray had strained things. Then as the children came along things changed entirely.

“Oh, I’m not here because of your father.” She looked over her shoulder at a man not too much younger than Karen, sitting at a table with Zoe and Zac. The three of them were laughing as he amused them with his usual nonsense. “I’m here for Kevin.”

Karen laughed in disbelief. “Of course, you are,” she rolled her eyes, but quickly regretted the gesture as her mother’s eyebrow rose. She could practically hear the sharp scolding in that one look. “Why does he even want to be here? Kevin hated dad.”

“He was his father too, Karen.” The older woman looked back at her son and grandchildren. “I think it would surprise you to know how much things have changed over the years. He deserves a chance to say goodbye.”

“He said goodbye 12 years ago, without ever looking back. Apparently, it runs in the family.” She couldn’t believe the two of them had shown up like this. How dare they suddenly step back into her world after such a long time. They were too smart to think Kal had left them anything, so what was it they wanted?

“Lower your voice. You’re starting to make a scene,” Eloise chided. “He didn’t say goodbye. He left for school. Something your father eventually realized could be very beneficial. Just because he didn’t come back home doesn’t mean he wasn’t part of this family.”

Karen hadn’t known that Kevin had even tried to contact them. He certainly hadn’t tried to talk to her. They had been close once. Closer than either had been with their parents. Why would he contact their dad and not her? What else had her father kept from her?

Tightening her jaw, Karen took in a bracing breath before responding. “He should never have taken that money when he left. Father was furious about that. We all were.”

“Oh please, it was never about the money. Your father wanted to mentor him, and he was annoyed that Kevin sought out other means of education. He’s done well, Karen. By himself. He’s stayed out of far more trouble than either you, your husband, or your father have.”

“Never about the money?” Karen scoffed. “He took thousands. That’s not counting the merchandise he appropriated for himself to sell to the Merics. It took us years to repair the damage he did.”

“The merchandise?” the older woman laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it now?” She shook her head and looked over at her son proudly. “He needed the money for tuition. He had a plan, just not the means. What did you expect him to do?”

“I expected him to be smarter,” Karen said coldly. “It’s not like the rest of us couldn’t control ourselves. There’s a difference between selling for profit and recklessly spending the investment before you’ve even broke even.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Karen. It’s unbecoming. You have always been a businesswoman. You know very well that it was a sound solution. He handled the money as well as could be expected. If you had been in his position…”

Karen laughed and shook her head. “You’re still making excuses for him.”

“Someone needs to have his back.”

“Someone that isn’t me you mean. It wasn’t until you pitted us against each other with your games that things between us changed. Kevin was doing just fine before you started to put ideas into his head.”

“Kevin has always been special,” her mother defended. “He wanted more. He deserved more.”

“Unbelievable. Kevin steals from the family, and you coddle him like some broken child. Where were you for the fallout? You didn’t see what his actions cost. Where were you when I needed you?” she snapped.

It wasn’t something Karen had meant to say, but it rang true. What would her life have been like if her mother had stuck around? If she had put even half the effort that she had with Kevin into Karen’s life, what would be different? Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“You’ve never let yourself need anyone,” Eloise answered sadly. “Look around you, Karen. You’ve lost your husband and your father. What else will you sacrifice to keep your pride?”

“It’s never been about pride,” Karen said, shaking her head. “You’ve never understood that.”

“And I probably never will. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a visit with my grandchildren.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to clear her head and ward off the headache she could feel starting, Karen took a moment to gather herself. There was business to attend to–even now. Without her father around she needed to make sure that these people knew that the Morrison’s had every intention of staying in power.

Her father’s legacy had always been something she knew she would one day run, but his premature departure and Kevin’s presence made her realize that she had more work than she’d expected. She turned back to the crowd and began to make the rounds, accepting condolences and exchanging pleasantries. It was exhausting, but it was something she could control, and that was something she sorely needed. Taking hold of the situation always gave her the sense that she was in charge.

* * * 

It wasn’t until the reception began to break down that Karen was joined by her brother. She kept a forced smile on her face and accepted the kiss to the cheek that he offered.

“Karen,” he greeted, stepping beside her to face the room. “Lovely to see you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said with false civility. “What are you doing here, Kevin?”

As the guests began to straggle out in small groups, the siblings stood side-by-side saying goodbye to their father’s associates. It didn't go unnoticed to Karen how Kevin introduced himself to every unfamiliar face. It also didn’t go unnoticed that Kevin already seemed acquainted with several people she hadn’t expected him to even know.

Their conversation continued, interspersed with the guests and forced smiles plastered on both their faces. “I’m here to help, of course,” Kevin said, looking over at her with a smug smile. “With father gone, and so much responsibility left behind…” he trailed off. “It seemed only right that I come help you get a handle on things.”

“I have a handle on things, Kevin. What I don’t need is you coming around and mucking things up.” She turned to give him a pointed look. “There is nothing here for you. Go back to wherever it is that you’ve been all this time.”

“Nothing here for me?” he asked with a wry smile. “Of course, there is. Hadn’t father told you?”

Karen took in a slow breath, trying to mask the unease of the moment. This was the second time she was confronted with the fact that her father had been keeping things from her. She could see the smugness in her brother’s eyes. He was certain he had the upper hand. “Told me what?”

Leaning down, Kevin smirked. “Who do you think has been running the financials for the past five years?” he asked, enjoying the way his sister’s face paled.

Not knowing what to say, Karen quickly greeted the next person that came their way. She needed time to think. Had her father really kept her so far out of the loop? How long had they been in contact? When had Kevin become an actual asset instead of just ass?

As the man and his wife walked away, Karen looked at her brother, eyebrow arched. “Well, you couldn’t have been doing a very good job seeing as how he ended up doing time.”

“Minor setback,” Kevin said, waving off the accusation. “Besides, every chain has a weak link. One only need know where to replace the damage. That damage has been erased. It’s time to move on to the next,” he said, knowingly.

He’d always been good at pressing her buttons, and he knew she was feeling the pressure of his presence. For now, that was all she needed to feel. Things would fall into place when he was ready. Unlike his sister, he already had a plan in mind and was taking steps towards accomplishing it.

Karen shifted next to him, straightening despite knowing that she’d never match his height. “I don’t know what your game is, but you won’t find any weak links here except for yourself.”

“Oh, it’s more than just a game,” he said with a cocky smile. “It’s my destiny.” Without another word, or giving her time to respond, Kevin walked away into the remaining crowd and disappeared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, feedback gives me life, motivation, and dopey ass grins, so please let me know what you think. 
> 
> I also started a discord channel if anybody is interested: https://discord.gg/kWVMbMD


	3. Max - High Hopes (Panic! At the Disco)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of work and with too much time on her hands, Maxine Middleton decides to start a blog--which leads to a very unusual phone call and an exciting opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, I PROMISE this is a story about Lola and Chelsea. If it helps any, they are in the next chapter :)
> 
> As I mentioned previously, this is a full story with all sorts of plot and problems for the girls. It may seem boring in these beginning scenes, but I have to set some groundwork before things get interesting.

Quitting her job had been the right choice. Max didn’t regret that, but she wasn’t certain where she was headed next. She looked at the boxes that sat on her desk, still unpacked. Heading over to them, she knew she needed to get the chore out of the way. She didn’t particularly want to rifle through all her things from the office, but it had to be done.

Opening the first box, she pulled out a stack of small moleskin notebooks. Her own version of field journals. Within the pages were notes upon notes of details from cases and interviews that she’d jotted down quickly. She didn’t know why she had always held onto them, but ever since she had left the academy, it was something she’d practiced. A study of the criminal mind?

This particular pile of notebooks was from this year. Max usually bundled up the year’s worth and brought them home where they were subsequently stored in a dusty box at the back of the guest room closet where she never looked at them again. Opening the notebook on top, she found her notes about Lola and Chelsea. Criminal minds indeed, she thought laughing to herself. They were like nothing she’d seen before in her career.

Max had spent a lot of time thinking about their status as criminals. That afternoon in the shipyard, she’d had them. It would have redeemed her behavior over the previous few weeks. It would have bolstered her career to levels she couldn’t fathom. They weren’t who she thought, though. They weren’t what anyone thought.

It was Chelsea’s temper tantrum that really solidified her doubt. She had never understood them–the notebook in her hand was nearly filled with their activity and her thoughts alone–but she’d had her doubts about how quickly the force was attaching crimes to them. Knowing that her gut instincts hadn’t let her down, she was still quite proud of the choice she’d made. Even if she couldn’t tell anyone what she’d done.

There was no way to explain that to people. She may not have regretted her choice, but she also had no intention of ending up with her own charges for helping them. How could she tell the world she chose to let them go without tying herself to any criminal activity?

Cocking her head to the side, Max thought it over. Was there a way? If she couldn’t explain her own actions, could she explain theirs? Picking up the box, and then the other, she set them down on the floor next to her desk. Digging through them, she gathered pens, post-its, her notes, and the file folders of copied information on them–that she technically wasn’t supposed to have–and set to work.

She worked for hours, before leaning back in her chair satisfied. After trying to plan out various ideas on how to accomplish getting their story out, Max had in front of her a solid plan.

She’d never tried to blog, but she knew how to google, and it couldn’t be that hard to figure out. Retrieving her laptop from the bedroom, she spent the next hour and a half following an online tutorial. The result was a simple, but professional looking blog. The cursor blinked in the text box, waiting for her to begin.

Without overthinking it, she started to type. It was surprisingly easy to explain her interest in Chelsea’s and Lola’s story, what she planned on exploring, and how she planned to do it. Describing who she was and her connection was harder. She pondered over it for several moments before she decided that the less she wrote about herself, the better it would be for everyone. Instead, she merely closed out the entry with her name. Well, not her name–a name.

She felt like if she explained that she’d been a former detective who’d had direct interactions with them, somehow, it would change people’s perspective and focus. This wasn’t about her. She needed to stay the voice behind the words and nothing more.

Reading through the article once more, she added a few commas and changed the wording here and there before finally hitting “post.” Max nodded to herself, sure she was doing the right thing. She closed the laptop lid and rose to her feet.

After literally chasing down the woman, she’d decided that jogging wouldn’t be the worst of hobbies to pick up. She’d been a runner in school, but it had been a long time since she’d done it regularly. She’d held her own against them, but she was out of practice.

Work had kept her in reasonably good shape, but now that she wasn’t as busy and she knew it wouldn't take much to fall out. She had enough money stashed away that finding a new job wasn’t an immediate issue. Finding a way to burn off the anxious energy of not doing anything however was. Changing into workout clothes, she took a moment to stretch out before hitting the pavement.

 

* * *

 

Coming out of the shower, Max heard her phone ringing. She dropped the towel she’d been drying her hair with on a nearby chair and headed towards her desk to find where she’d left her phone after she’d returned from her jog.

The number was unfamiliar, but that wasn’t altogether surprising. Who would be calling her? It was usually just work or the occasional call from one of her brothers.

“Hello,” Max said, as she shuffled some papers on her desk into something that looked like organization. She hadn’t realized how much her project had exploded. She was not a messy person, but in one morning her desk had become covered in post-its, half scrawled ideas, and manila folders.

“Maxine Middleton?” the female on the other end asked.

“Yes, this is–” Trying to move folders out of the way, she spilled her cold forgotten coffee. “Shit,” she hissed. “Can you just… hold on,” Max said, putting the phone down on the chair and trying to find something to sop up the liquid.

She grabbed the towel off the back of the chair and cleaned up as best she could. She nearly forgot about the phone but spotted it on her way to the laundry. “Sorry about that, spilled my coffee all over the damn place,” she explained.

“My name is Susan Larkins,” the woman said, introducing herself. “I work for a small podcasting network.”

Max dropped the towel in the laundry and returned to the desk to survey the damage. Rolling her eyes, she picked up a few wet pieces of paper and tacked them to the bulletin board over her desk to dry. “I’m sure it’s wonderful, but if you’re looking for donations or something…”

“No!” Susan said, quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I read your blog.”

“My blog?” Max asked in surprise, drawn in by this new tidbit of information. “I only started it this morning… I haven’t even really posted anything.”

“Which is one of the reasons I was so excited to find you!” Susan responded.

“How did you…?”

“Oh,” I’ve been following everything I can find about Lola Buckley and Chelsea Babbage,” she explained. “I’ve set up Google alerts on them actually. “So, when your blog came up, I just had to check it out.”

“No,” Max said, shaking her head. “How did you find me?”

The woman laughed. “Oh that. I have a cousin who… knows people. Anyway, as I was saying. I really wanted to get ahold of you before you got started or someone else snatched you up. You said in your post that you wanted to uncover the truth about who Lola and Chelsea are.”

Max sat back in her chair, losing track of what the woman was rambling about. Who the hell was this? Her stomach knotted with anxiety. She didn’t seem like she meant any trouble, but Max had learned not to trust first appearances. “What is it exactly that you want?” she asked point-blank.

“I want you to drop the blog and come work with us,” Susan explained. “We don’t pay much up front until a show really takes off–which I have no doubt yours will–but I doubt you’re going to make much money off that blog either.”

“You want me to do a podcast?” she asked dryly. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

“Yes!” the other woman said excitedly.

Max’s brow furrowed. The timing of this was either spooky as hell or something along the lines of fate. “About Buckley and Babbage?”

“Exactly. They are hot news right now, especially since they’ve gotten away. Again. Who better to talk to about them than someone who has had first-hand encounters?”

Max’s eyes widened. “First-hand encounters?” She knew she had made sure not to mention her involvement. Whoever this woman had been talking to was much too familiar with who she was and details that had not been made public.

“Oh, I understand you wanting to keep that particular detail private. You’re probably wondering how I know so much about you, but as I said, I have a friend.” There was a brief pause before she continued. “We wouldn’t ask you to reveal who you truly are, don’t worry. I just think it gives you an edge that no one else can offer.”

Max didn’t know if this was a good idea. Sure, she had started that blog, but she hadn’t expected many, if any, people to read it. She had wanted her blog to reach people, but in the back of her mind, she’d always known it was unlikely. It was a pet project to keep her busy. A podcast seemed like a much bigger medium, and the way this woman was talking, it could bring a lot of attention right back to her directly.

On the other hand, with a podcast, she’d have more credible means to track down the people Chelsea and Lola had encountered. “Hey, can I interview you for a blog I’m writing?” held far less weight than “Do you want to be on my podcast?”

She took a moment to really think about why she had wanted to do this in the first place. She had wanted to show a different side of them than what the news recycled day after day. Show the side that she had discovered throughout her investigation.

“Aside from the publicity, what is it that you’re trying to platform here?” Max asked, still rolling the idea around in her mind.

“They seem like strong, brave women, and I think Australia needs to see that. They’re opening doors to important things that the news won’t touch.”

“Such as?”

“How dodgy the police can be, no offense of course, and how the system is failing them,” the woman said flatly.

Despite her tone, there was a resignation behind it that said she was going to make this show happen whether Max was involved or not. Max wasn’t entirely convinced that she could tell their story in all its brutal honesty, but she was nearly positive that someone who wasn’t involved could tackle this better than she could.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” she said, not giving herself a moment longer to reason it.

“That’s wonderful!” Susan exclaimed. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to win you over, but I had hoped to. My friend said it would take some work, but that you’d come around to the idea.”

“Who is your friend?” Max asked, still puzzled over this unknown connection they had.

“Ah,” Susan said pleasantly. “I’m afraid I can’t reveal that–gotta protect the sources and all that. I do have a question for you though,” she continued, voice full of mischief.

Max’s eyebrows rose in anticipation. This woman was exhausting already. Hopefully, working together was only meant in the loosest definition of those words. She couldn’t imagine spending days at a time around her. “Which would be?”

“Off the record. Did you let them get away?”

At this point, she really shouldn’t be surprised by the amount of information this woman held. “Off the record?” she asked. Was there such a thing?

She had just met this woman, and even that was only by phone. She hated not talking in person. Reading people was a strength of hers, but not having visual cues was offsetting.

“Absolutely,” Susan said with conviction.

Max wanted to tell the truth. She wasn’t sure why. It would have terrible consequences. Choosing her words carefully, she gave the closest answer to the truth that she felt comfortable with. “I was a member of the police force, and I did my job to the best of my ability.”

“And what exactly was your job?” Susan asked, not missing the intentional wording.

“My job was to lock up the bad guys.” She couldn’t help the smirk that crossed her face. It was the best she’d felt about it since it happened. She had done her job. No one was going to convince her differently.

Susan laughed, knowing that was the closest thing she would get to an answer. “Sounds like you did what needed to be done then. Listen, I’ll email you with the office information and some ideas I have. Take some time to look it over and get back to me when you’re ready, but I’d like to move on this as soon as possible.”

“Alright,” Max said, feeling better about this whole idea. There had been something freeing about the way Susan had read between her words. Maybe she didn’t owe Chelsea and Lola anything, but ever since that day she’d found a peace within herself that she hadn’t known in a very long time. Lola had given her that, and it seemed only fair to repay in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you're still reading. Please let me know what you think. I'm drowning here, people!


	4. Lola & Chelsea - Rather Be (Clean Bandit feat. Jess Glynne)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I have been working on it a lot actually, but it's mostly been figuring out some stuff that happens later. Fingers crossed, I should be updating a little more frequently.

Pulling off the highway, Lola steered down the slope towards flatter ground. The idea was to park the RV beneath the overpass for the night and stay out of sight. Whether it was a good idea or not was yet to be seen. She held her breath as she drove, hoping that she didn’t either flip the camper or end up stuck.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Chelsea asked, one hand on the dash, and the other hanging on to her seat as the whole camper shook from the terrain. She glared at Lola out of the corner of her eye, but her eyes quickly darted back to the ground in front of them as they hit a large bump.

Lola wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to tell Chelsea that. “We can’t just park out in the open, Chelsea,” she snapped in frustration. “I don’t care how isolated this seems.”

“We haven’t seen anyone for ages,” Chelsea grumbled.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to risk it. We’re not that lucky,” she added losing some of the annoyance in her tone. She should have stopped when they’d passed the last town. It had seemed crummy enough to stay off the radar. But instead, she’d kept on driving until she could barely see.

Chelsea, thankfully, hadn’t offered to drive. She had offered to make dinner, which Lola wasn’t sure would be an improvement, but she’d agreed. How badly could Chelsea really mess up canned soup? It wasn’t ideal, but it was quick. They were both too tired for anything that involved actual effort.

They made it beneath the underpass with less trouble than either had expected. Hopefully, the next morning they would have just as easy a time getting back out. Chelsea would never shut up about it if they ended up stuck. Lola sighed in annoyance at the thought, cutting off the engine and rubbing tired hands across her face.

“I’m just going to finish up dinner,” Chelsea said, as she stood up. She squeezed Lola’s shoulder as she passed. Lola had always made sure she got at least some sleep, but would never let herself truly rest no matter how much Chelsea tried to force her to. She looked like she was close to her breaking point. “Why don’t you take a shower?”

Lola nodded numbly. She didn’t have it in her to argue, and the thought of hot water was enough to tempt her away from stumbling over to the bed and passing out before Chelsea even had time to cook. Following Chelsea, she headed towards the back of the camper to grab a towel.

“Lola, the water… It’s not…” Chelsea said, twisting the faucet to show her.

Setting the towel back down, Lola walked over. “Let me see,” she said, grabbing Chelsea by the hips and sliding her to the side. “He said the switch was...” She ducked her head down so she could see beneath the cabinet. “Here we are.” She hit the switch and nodded towards the faucet for Chelsea to try again. “Now give it a go.”

The faucet hissed out air before spluttering to life. Chelsea looked at the water suspiciously, and Lola rolled her eyes. “It’s just air in the pipes. Don’t worry.”

She backed away, thumbing in the direction of the shower. “I’ll try to save you some hot water,” she teased, before turning around and stepping into the small cubby that served as their bathroom.

“That was fast,” Chelsea said when she heard the bathroom door open. In truth, it had been a pretty long shower for Lola compared to her usual ones. It was still less than half the time Chelsea took. She looked up to find a very naked and wet Lola curled partially around the door.

“I forgot my towel,” Lola explained, pointing back towards where she’d left it. “You mind?"

Chelsea stared at her for a moment, not entirely processing what Lola had just said.

“Chelsea,” Lola said, laughing. She watched as the younger woman’s cheeks flushed and her eyes stayed wide in surprise.

“Right. Towel,” Chelsea said, catching up to the moment. She quickly averted her eyes and grabbed the towel. “Here you go,” she said, trying to look everywhere except Lola.

Smirking, Lola grabbed the towel from her. “Thanks,” she said, wrapping it around herself before opening the door the rest of the way. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this clean." Looking through their stuff, she grabbed a wide-toothed comb and began to work it through her damp hair.

“Shit,” Chelsea said, stirring the soup. As the spoon moved against the bottom of the pan, she could feel the layer of vegetables stuck to the bottom. Leaning forward and hoping it was okay she smelled it, but it was definitely scorched. “Hey, Lola?”

“Yeah?” She could tell by Chelsea’s tone something had gone wrong.

Biting her bottom lip, Chelsea winced. “I think I burnt dinner.”

Tilting her head back in frustrated amusement, Lola took a steadying breath before she set the comb down and turned the corner. “Well stop stirring it,” she chided, taking the spoon from Chelsea’s hand. She looked down at the temperature gauge on the hot plate and rolled her eyes. “Well for starters, why did you have it on so high?”

Chelsea crossed her arms. “Because it cooks faster, and I knew you were tired.”

“Chelsea,” Lola said, turning off the hot plate and moving the pot to the trivet on the counter. “You’re just warming it up. It’s already cooked. I think I could have handled waiting an extra five minutes.”

“It was fine. I was watching it.”

“Obviously,” Lola said dryly.

“Okay, well, I had been watching it until you came out of the shower naked.”

“Oh? Do you normally wear clothes in the shower? That why it always takes you so long? Doing your laundry as well.”

“You know what I meant,” Chelsea said as Lola took a small taste of the soup. It didn’t go unnoticed that Lola was still just wrapped in a towel, but Chelsea was too annoyed to be flustered now.

Lola could see that Chelsea was starting to sound defeated and decided to stop teasing her. “It’s fine. Just grab the vinegar from over there.” She looked through the small amount of spices she’d picked up. Despite her “only the essentials” suggestion she still had gone a bit overboard herself on some things. She’d justified it because it was a multipack and on sale. Chelsea’s practicality was apparently rubbing off on her.

The younger woman handed her the vinegar and quietly watched as Lola added a little of each into the soup before tasting it again. She added a bit more of the cinnamon and stirred it in. One more taste and she was satisfied. “Here,” she said, holding the spoon up for Chelsea.

Eyeing the spoon suspiciously, Chelsea leaned forward and tasted it. Her eyes widened in surprise. It tasted fine.

Lola nodded and walked away to get dressed. “Back in a jiff,” she said, easing past Chelsea in the tight quarters.

They ate in relative silence, letting all the days anxious energy and stress settle into something tolerable. The soup wasn’t perfect, but it was edible. Lola was at least relieved that she wasn’t going to die from food poisoning. She watched Chelsea, looking for any signs of discomfort or unease that she could soften. Yes, they were in the RV, but they were also out in the middle of nowhere–Chelsea’s favorite place to be.

“What?” Chelsea asked, noticing Lola watching her. She wiped at her mouth with a paper towel and raised her eyebrows questioning. She saw the half-asked question lingering on Lola’s lips and tilted her head knowingly. “I’m fine, Lola.” She held up her hands and surprised them both by how still they were. “See,” she said, more confident than before.

Lola nodded and absently stirred the last bit of soup in her bowl. “I wasn’t worried about your hands. I was just wondering how you were holding up. You got a bit riled up today,” she said, nodding towards the tabloids sitting on the edge of the table.

“Can you blame me?” Chelsea asked, still surprised how bold Lola had been. She’d always been the cautious one–the one to keep her head down and tell Chelsea not to be so obvious. Suddenly, they escape the police–again–buy an RV, and Lola starts acting like none of it matters. It was unsettling.

Shrugging, Lola grabbed a cracker and dipped it in her soup. “Fair enough. It was amusing to watch you get all worked up though.”

Frowning, Chelsea looked down at her bowl before back up to meet Lola’s gaze. “What if it had been someone else? Someone who didn’t think we were some sort of rogues off on a grand adventure? Someone who cared about that reward they’re offering?”

“Oh please,” Lola said in disbelief. “Those two? There’s no way they cared about turning us in. His eyes practically lit up when he saw us–and not with dollar signs. I’m surprised he didn’t ask for autographs. As for her, you heard the way she talked about us. It probably made her day.”

Chelsea looked down at her food and pursed her lips before taking another mouthful of soup. “I suppose. It was still reckless,” she said, pointing her spoon at Lola.

“Yeah, okay. Fine,” Lola said, holding up her hands to ward off any continuing lecture. “From now on, I won’t draw needless attention.” She stood up and grabbed her bowl. “You done?” she asked. When Chelsea nodded, Lola grabbed her dishes and headed towards the sink.

“Thank you,” Chelsea said. She stood up to help Lola.

“I got it,” Lola said. “You cooked.”

“Do you want to get the bed set up?” Chelsea asked as she pulled their blankets and pillows from a small cupboard. “Maybe we can get it right this time? I’m sure that will help.”

“Chelsea, just… not tonight. I’m too tired to mess with all that,” Lola stared at the two small beds. She probably should have gotten something a little bigger after all. “You know how cramped we were last night anyway. Maybe this will be more comfortable?” she said, not wholly convinced herself.

Shrugging the younger woman conceded. “I guess.” She wanted to put up a fight but knew she should just let Lola go to sleep. “Okay, which bed do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lola said and stepped towards the one on the right. Sitting down, she wiped tired hands down her face. “You getting in the shower?” she asked, looking up at Chelsea.

Nodding, the younger woman rifled through their bag to find fresh clothes.

“Just make sure you turn the pump back off when you’re done,” Lola said, nodding towards the switch in the kitchenette. She watched the younger woman walk away before she called out to her. “Chelsea.”

Turning around, Chelsea looked at Lola with eyebrows raised in question. “Yes?”

“Thanks for dinner,” Lola said, spreading out the thin blanket and adjusting the lump of fabric that was supposed to be a pillow.

Chelsea grinned and nodded. “You’re welcome,” she said, proud that she could do something to help instead of just clean which had really been more for her own benefit than Lola’s. When Lola looked over her shoulder to smile warmly at her, she ducked her head shyly and quickly made her way to the shower.

Letting the warm water soak into her muscles, Chelsea was surprised by how tired she suddenly felt. She’d cleaned, and they’d shopped, but it was hardly the most exhausting day they’d had. Tilting her head from side to side, she tried to stretch out the sore muscles. She doubted there was much hot water left, and they needed to conserve what they had anyway. She quickly went about rinsing the conditioner from her hair and finishing up.

Stretching out on the small bed, Lola decided it was definitely not an improvement than their attempt at making the bed bigger. She was too tired to bother messing with it though. She had half a mind to toss her blanket on the floor and sleep there. Still, even Chelsea’s cleaning didn’t have her convinced that she wanted to lay on the stained carpeting. At least on the bed, she could stay relatively clean–which made for a nice change.

The shower door opened, and Chelsea came out, already fully dressed and ready for bed. “I can’t believe how sore I am,” Chelsea said, still drying her hair with the towel.

“Come here,” Lola said, sitting up and gesturing for Chelsea. When the younger woman came closer, she took the towel from her and told her to sit. She didn’t say much else, or mention the stains Chelsea was now sitting on, but she did start to dry her hair gently. “Overall feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Chelsea said, her voice nervously quivering as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “It’s strange, but here, in this beat up camper in the middle of nowhere, with you... I’ve never felt so at home.” She stilled Lola’s hand with her own and turned to smile up at her gratefully. She needed to see her reaction, even if she wasn’t sure that she wanted to.

She was met with raw emotion. “I mean it,” Chelsea said, nodding sincerely. Somehow, she had gone from needing to feel reassured that she wasn’t alone in her feelings to needing to make sure that Lola understood the weight of her words. “It’s not just because I don’t have a real home, or a life of my own, or a loving family...”

“Hey,” Lola said fiercely. Her tone softened almost instantly. “You have family.”

Chelsea understood that Lola did not mean her father. After the initial indifference David had shown her, they had started to get along better. And Donna had almost instantly treated Chelsea like she’d always been one of them. “I just want you to know that...” she stumbled and let out a huff of frustration. “This just feels right. Us here... like this...”

“I know,” Lola assured with a gentle smile.

Swallowing hard, Chelsea could see all of what Lola wasn’t saying in her eyes, but dammit she wanted to hear it. Ducking her gaze, she turned back around and dropped her shoulders in resolve.

Lola set the towel aside. Instead, she began to run her fingers through the curly locks, untangling them. She took her time but was soon met with a familiar aroma. She grabbed at her own hair and inhaled. The scent was there, but not as strongly. With an amused albeit a questioning look, Lola leaned forward and inhaled slowly.

Chelsea pulled away from Lola and stared accusingly over her shoulder. “Are you smelling me?”

“No,” Lola said slowly before tugging a lock of Chelsea’s hair, “I’m smelling _my_ conditioner.” She laughed as Chelsea quickly turned back around. “It’s fine,” she said, resting heavy hands on the younger woman’s shoulders. “What’s mine is yours and all that nonsense. Right?”

Squinting up at Lola, Chelsea didn’t drop her mock glare. “Just assume I’m going to use half of whatever you buy,” she said, parroting Lola’s earlier words.

Pursing her lips in amusement, Lola nodded. “Fair enough.” She handed Chelsea the damp towel and nodded for her to go on. “You’re all dry and detangled,” she said lightly. As Chelsea headed to the bathroom to hang up the towel, she lay back down on the small bed and felt herself falling into a drowsy haze.

Chelsea came back and moved their bag to the floor and only hesitated for a moment before shaking out her blanket and laying down. She just kept reminding herself that they’d slept in worse places. She hadn’t had a chance to wash the bedding, but she had let it sit out in the sun for a while that afternoon in the hopes of freshening it up.

“All set?” Lola asked, propping herself up on one elbow and looking over at the younger woman. Chelsea nodded, and once Lola was satisfied that she was settled, she turned the bunk light off. “G’night then,” Lola said, laying back down and rolling onto her side. They lay in heavy silence for some time. Lola didn’t feel restless, but something was keeping her awake.

“Hey, Lola.”

There it was. Lola smiled knowingly. “What’s up?”

There was another pause of silence. Lola waited, deciding not to rush Chelsea to spit out whatever she was trying to say. Chelsea’s words about this feeling like home were still fluttering their way through her chest, and she was indulging in the feeling–allowing herself a moment to enjoy something so innocent.

“You’re really far away,” Chelsea said, trying to sound less desperate than she felt. She had always slept on her own until Nathan, and even then, their bed was big enough that they barely touched. She generally liked her space, and she didn’t want people invading that. She had enjoyed the whole cuddling thing as a child, but as an adult, it always felt too forced. Lola was one of the few people that she’d slept closely with, and she was surprised to find that she now missed the presence of another person.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Lola looked up at the ceiling hoping for some deity to prevent her from strangling the younger woman. “Chelsea, there’s two feet between us. There is no far away in this thing,” she said, sounding more frustrated than she meant. True to her nature, Lola smiled as Chelsea refused to back down and spoke.

“It’s just... it’s not the same,” Chelsea said, pausing as if Lola should understand.

Lola raised herself up on her elbows and stared over at Chelsea, her eyes having adjusted slightly to the dark. “The same as what?”

“Sharing,” Chelsea admitted quietly, biting at her lip.

Throwing herself back against her pillow Lola huffed. “No. Absolutely not. This bed’s barely big enough for me.”

“But we could...”

“Chelsea,” Lola said in disbelief.

There was a moment of silence before Chelsea spoke again. “I mean if we just... I could...” she stuttered her way through plans that she knew Lola would shoot down the minute she elaborated.

“Goodnight,” Lola said, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes.

“Goodnight,” Chelsea said dejectedly. She didn’t really think Lola was going to give in, but a small part of her always enjoyed when Lola indulged her. Before she could even rethink the words, the question was slipping past her lips. “Maybe we could buy a different camper?”

“Chelsea,” Lola said, drawing the younger woman’s name out, her tone even and low.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, Chelsea nodded. “Right. Okay then. Going to sleep now.” She pulled a chunk of her hair across her face and inhaled Lola’s conditioner, somehow comforted by the fact that it smelled like her–even if Chelsea had never known Lola to smell that way before.

Laughing to herself, Lola shook her head. Of course, Chelsea’s solution to not sleeping together was to buy a whole new camper. Since when did Chelsea even like sleeping next to her. She’d always been so prickly about sharing. As Lola felt herself relaxing, she decided that was a thought for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, okay. So many things. 
> 
> 1\. If you haven't seen it yet, there's a new tumblr blog for stories, updates, etc. It can be found at lola-and-chelsea.tumblr.com  
> 2\. I have started to put together a "soundtrack" for this. It's dumb. My taste in music is weird. It will not flow well, BUT if you want to check it out. I'll post it on the tumblr blog, but you can also find it at spoti.fi/2tTT7FI I'll be updating it as I update chapters. Please don't judge! :-P  
> 3\. There's a discord server if anyone wants to come hang out. You can join up here: discord.gg/vjrx7EC I'm usually online and you can find me there or on my main tumblr alicesloane13.tumblr.com
> 
> 4\. Reviews, comments, questions, kudos, follows, whatever are always awesome! Seriously! They feed writer's and keep them motivated! If there's anything you'd like to see let me know bc we have a looooooooong way to go here.


	5. Karen - Ruin Me (Zara Larsson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen gets a late night visit, from a very unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SO sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter up. I'm also really sorry that you've waited for so long and it's not Lola and Chelsea. Anyway, yeah, I'm sorry. Feel free to yell at me more often.
> 
> Don't forget to check out the playlist I've been adding to for this story on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hHAJmprZlGtqDYkmMFvhK?si=3BTnmhpfTz-ArBtPC1TkwQ)

It had been hard, but Karen had managed to survive the day. After leaving the funeral–and recovering from the familial ambush–she and the kids had spent the evening at home.

Upon the promise of no electronics for the evening (hers included), she agreed to watch Jurassic Park with them after dinner, which, they surprisingly offered to help with. Jurassic Park was one of their favorite movies. Karen had initially enjoyed it but had slowly grown to loathe it over time merely from the number of times they'd seen it.

Ray had always been eager to watch along with them. When he was focused on them, he could easily blend in as a third child. He had a bond with them that Karen feared she might never have. It wasn't in her nature to be playful or imaginative in a way they would appreciate it.

She'd conceded to the movie, though. After being sharp with them that afternoon–and in an effort to avoid more questions about their uncle and grandmother–it seemed like the best option. Despite her reticence, watching the movie and just simply spending the evening with the Zac and Zoe had been refreshing. She hadn't spent much time with them in the past few weeks, and their excitement about her involvement softened the harshness of all they'd been through that afternoon.

Karen spent more time watching them than the actual movie–enjoying their excitement, and the good-natured joking between them. They had already grown up so much. She knew she didn't have too many years with them left. Not like this. Not ones where they wanted to spend time with her. She and Ray had always spent so much time at work. They had convinced themselves that it was their children's futures they were securing, but what about their present? How many evenings like this had they sacrificed?

She heard her phone vibrate from where it lay on the end table and itched to pick it up. Her mind spun into a whirlwind of thoughts of work and business, no longer focused on the family time she'd promised. Despite her reflection mere moments before, Karen was relieved when the credits began to roll. The evening had been a pleasant reprieve from the realities shadowing her life, but if she wanted more moments like these, then she needed to secure her holding of her father's legacy.

"Alright," she said, reaching for the remote and turning the TV off. "Bedtime."

"But–" Zoe started–about to argue that it was still early–but was cut off with a look from her mother.

Karen was surprised to see Zac gently grab her arm and shake his head. They shared a look of understanding and a silent conversation that she was not privy to. When had they gone from squabbling children to two tiny humans that had a view of the world outside themselves, she wondered. They both stood and in turn kissed her on the cheek before heading upstairs. She sat for a long moment staring after them before reaching for her phone. 

There were a few new emails, but nothing of real importance. There was a message from Alaine, her assistant, but she would check it in the morning. If it had been anything vital, she would have just called. Karen had always been very strict about being interrupted when she was at home, but she trusted her assistant's judgment. She'd been with Karen for nearly six years now. As she walked towards the kitchen, she switched over to her diary to see what her schedule looked like for the next few days. 

Deciding there wasn't much she could work on that evening, she poured herself a glass of the wine she'd opened earlier. The doorbell rang before she'd even had a sip. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her head in resignation. All she needed was yet another unpleasant surprise to her day. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she made her way to the front door. Karen looked through the peephole, and her eyes widened in surprise. She took a sharp breath and pulled back instantly. It had been years, but she'd recognize those sculpted sideburns anywhere. She just hadn't ever expected to see them on her doorstep. 

"Todd," she whispered to herself. 

It would be easy to ignore him–pretend like she wasn't home or already asleep. So much time had passed since they'd last spoken. So much hurt came flashing back. She tugged on her shirt and smoothed her hands down her skirt, a pointless gesture to try and straighten her clothes and look composed. 

There was a loud banging on the door that sounded like he was using the side of his first to get her attention. "Karen," he bellowed. His tone was not aggressive but merely implied that he knew she was standing on the other side, debating on what to do. "I know you're in there."

Unbolting the door, she opened it quickly. The last thing she needed was the kids coming down to see what the ruckus was. "What do you want, Todd?" 

"Well, hello to you too, beautiful," he said, with a lopsided grin on his face. "May I...?" he asked, pointing to the room behind her. Not waiting for a response he breezed by her, taking a look around the place. They had moved since the last time he'd been around. "You and Ray have done well."

Karen sighed in annoyance. She knew Ray was a sore spot for both of them. It may have been old news, but the pain still impacted them both. Apparently, Todd was going to hold that against her–still. She really shouldn't be surprised. In some ways, she still held it against herself. It took nothing more than a look at her children to change her mind. They were worth everything she'd sacrificed. 

"Oh, that's right," he said, spinning on a heel. "My condolences, of course. Although, I doubt you're all that torn up. You never did care for him much."

Heading to the kitchen, Karen grabbed her glass of wine. "He was the father of my children. For their sake, I'm very... disappointed by how things turned out." She took a large sip and moved the bottle out of his reach. Todd was a charmer and one of the smartest men she knew when he was sober, but that all turned to manipulation and anger with enough alcohol. 

"No sharing?" he asked with mock offense. "You were raised with better manners than that, love."

"You want to get smashed? Go spend time with your mates. I'm sure there are plenty around to enable you." Reaching for the wine bottle, she topped off her glass. "I don't want you in my house to begin with, let alone plastered." She needed to keep her wits about her and his hands off anything of value, but she also needed to steady her nerves. Seeing Todd was like seeing a ghost. She'd have been less surprised to see Ray on the other side of that door.

Sitting on a bar stool across from her, he nodded. "Fair, enough. But for the record, I'm clean," he said, pulling out a purple chip from his pocket and sliding it across the counter.

"Nine months? You've been gone for eight years. I'm supposed to what? Suddenly take you seriously?" Karen scoffed.

"How about some water then?" he asked, taking the chip back and rolling it along his knuckles. 

"How about you get out of my bloody house? What is it you want, Todd?" she snapped. Setting her glass down on the counter, she began to fidget with the front of her necklace. 

Rising to his feet, with deliberate steps, he made his way around the bar until he was standing in front of her. "What I want, is what I've always wanted," he murmured, sliding his hand to her waist. "The same thing you always wanted."

"You don't know anything about me, Todd. That was a lifetime ago," she said, taking a step backward. She tried to keep how flustered she was under control, but being so close to him was having a very distinct effect. It wasn't the wine bringing the flush creeping up her neck towards her cheeks. 

"Money," he said, stepping forward, following her until she was backed against the counter. "Power." His hand cupped the side of her face. "Control." He slid it behind the back of her neck, grasping it firmly. 

Karen licked her lips without realizing it. "Things change, Todd," she whispered. Her hands clutched at the counter behind her, and she knew she was close to giving in. "You can't just swoop in after all these years and..." 

"Oh, yes I can," he said, tilting his head and dropping his lips to hers.

She found herself responding to his kisses, suddenly feeling like a lovesick teenager once more. Damn, she still wanted him. He was a gamble though–always so damn reckless and wild. She didn't have time in her life for gambles anymore. Not with her father dead. Not with Kevin back. There was too much going on.

Todd pulled back, leaving just enough space to test her. Their eyes stayed locked for several moments. He could see the warring torment in her eyes. The desire to give in battling with the logical part of her mind that made rational choices, and was screaming that he was terrible for her. 

Within seconds her hands were in his hair, pulling him towards her and seeking out his lips. He continued to kiss her for several moments–a rush of movements that went from slow and cocky, to fiery and full of built-up passion. When her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, he stopped her. "I'm not the man you knew Karen." He stepped back and looked her over. "You're going to need help, and I'm going to prove to you that I can be there for you." With that, he turned and headed back towards the door.

Karen put the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to figure out what had just happened. "Todd," she said, finally catching up to real time. He was a distraction of the worst kind.

He turned and smirked at her. "Karen." His eyebrow rose in question. 

She didn't know what to say and just nodded. "You look better," she said, sincerely.

"I'll be in touch," he said with a smirk. "Don't worry. This won't be the last time we see each other." He turned once more and left without another word.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Karen wiped her hands down her face and rested in a temple over her mouth. That had not gone how she planned. "Bloody hell," she murmured. Grabbing her glass of wine, she drowned it and placed it in the sink. Her thoughts ran rabid as she mentally recapped everything the day had brought her. She had more problems than ideas at this point. It would do no good to wreck her mind over it now though. She needed to be clear headed in the morning. She locked the front door and headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

 

* * *

Before walking down the front steps, Todd pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He knew going there wasn't a sure thing, but leaving he felt like he definitely had the upper hand for a change. He'd reminded her of all that they'd had and all that they could have once more. That was all he needed for now.

He pulled out his phone as he walked down the driveway. He'd sent two of his best men after the women a week ago. He hadn't heard anything in a few days, and after his promises to Karen, he was feeling restless. "Hey, it's me," he said, as the other party answered. "Any news yet?"

The younger man on the phone stammered to answer. "Well, Todd, it's tricky." Todd had hired him because he was good at what he did. Unfortunately, it was computers. Chelsea and Lola were smart enough to know better than to leave any sort of digital trail. CCTV would be the only thing he could work with. However, in this case, he could forge or hack nearly anything his partner needed. 

"They're just two women, Mason. How tricky can it be?" Todd said with a frustrated growl. "Put Kai on." 

Mason continued, "All of Australia is looking for them. The police don't even know where to start."

"Do I need to remind you that you are not the police? You better come up with something better than that if you expect to keep your job. Are we clear?"

"Yes, of course. We're working on it. I promise," Mason stammered. 

"Kai. Now," Todd said with a deadly steel to his voice. He heard Mason call the other man over. Once Kai was on the phone, he continued, "Talk." 

"We've had some leads, but nothing solid," he explained, sounding much more relaxed than his partner. "We're ahead of the police, but it's just the two of us. It's going to take some time." He could feel Todd's glare across the phone. "Just leave it to us. We'll get them. It won't be long now. Like I said, we have some leads we're following." 

"Follow them faster," Todd said, ending the call before any more excuses could be made. "Idiots," he said to himself. 

He didn't want to bring anyone else in on this, but he might have to. Mason and Kai were good, but he knew Chelsea and Lola were too. They'd bested everyone that had come at them so far. So far. He was going to change that. 

He'd give Kai and Mason another week and see where they were before taking a different course of action. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. And, guess what???? We have finished in-story Day 1! I know it feels like it's been a year.... I promise all these side characters are headed somewhere important. 
> 
> If you haven't heard about it yet, which if you're on tumblr is pretty suprising, a friend and I have started a Wanted [discord](https://discord.gg/vjrx7EC) channel. Come talk to us! 
> 
> (Pretty sure that link won't expire, but if it does feel free to get ahold of me and ask for a new one).
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to TheOnlySPL for helping me out with this so much and continuing to push me to finish it. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! It would really help moving forward to get some feedback. Also, feel free to come bug me on tumblr (alicesloane13).


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